Sentinel

I watch the coffee percolate, then

drink it like a deluge in the desert.

Phantasm of equilibrium squints back

through the mirror of opprobrium,

to offer more misanthropic musings

from within a myopic miasma of misery.

 

Burnt coffee serves only to inumbrate

my outlook, like the dregs of a final shot

to an inebriated sage. A final lapse,

the penultimate attempt to transfuse

a semblance of sense into a senseless situation.

The empty bottle is my eternal sentinel.

Reviews

[Brad Nugent]

This is a really good piece. One of your best so far, in my opinion. Phantasm of equilibrium squinting back; the empty bottle as eternal sentinel - fine imagery. The alliteration works well throughout. You paint a picture and then leave it for the reader - there is no unnecessary use of language for the sake of it here. Kudos!